We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

The Bandit

from Losing The Game by The Blend

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $1 USD

     

lyrics

Prequel
Ya say ya wanna change
the clouds to white from gray.
Dissolve the storms to sunshine,
the light of day.
Conduct directions of the wind
and temperatures like May,
turnover the overtures of time
and sing’em through the rain

It’s the same
page,
different book
same page, different book

What is this, another dirty dish in the kitchen
I keep washin’ but the dirt is never finished.
The sink and faucet are the only evidence of fruition.
I swipe the time card and keep wishin’.
It lasts a flash, alone a sweet instance,
superfluous, golden, magnificent moment,
that slips away, twists in the drain,
and it never comes back, but I’ma still sit and wait.

My mind drifts like a ghost,
the past is in my system like a virus without a host.
Sex, drugs, relationships, and faith-
could turn a mile and a mountain, to an inch and a grain,
burn a smile down to fits of rage,
word it out ‘til it rips the page.
Anyways, bring your seven mile stare
and a clever smile to wear,
and we’ll get apathetic ‘til we care.

Same page
Different book
Same
page
Different
Book
Wait, wait
listen
look
wait

wait

The Bandit

Must be why we feel old when we’re young
the same reason why we feel in control when we’re drunk,
admirin’ stars that can’t glow in the sun,
held to a crowd that left us alone on the run.
I’m not much for what’s meant to be
when folks can hold on to guns and let go of everything.
I’m disengaged with all but this page
like headphones in lecture hall bumpin’ Purple Haze.

Curtain’s raised and I still got the fight in me.
2009, nothing surprises me.
I’m stretchin’ fate far as you can set the date.
I’ll be damned if I’m getting’ played like Kiss Me Kate.
Rewritin’ the script is a piece’a wedding cake
spectatin’ the campus pressing fakes in a desperate state,
watchin’ lovers, that’ve only seen summer,
wander into that false sense of comfort,

disputes turn into fist feuds,
drugs to dirstribute, classes to sit through,
a never ending agenda we’re pinned to,
and next week’s feeling like a island too far to swim to.
I’d like to think tomorrow hasn’t been written yet
and gets determined by what we’re givin’ it.
But then you have to ask, watching another day collapse
and crash into the past, “is this it?”
-
Pre Chorus
Close as it gets, close as a kiss,
Any closer than this we might stick
Close as it gets, close as a kiss
Any closer than this we might stick

Chorus
I’m runnin’ outta rage
Comin down from up.
If you can count your days,
your time has long been done.
If ain’t nobody gonna fix this,
then I will.

And if you don’t know by now,
then I do.
-
Nice days only last ‘til the light fades
and it’s not long ‘til everybody’s jumpin’ on the night train.
I take flight late, avoid the pipe drain’s
rush hour traffic backed up with the lightweights.
Tryin’ to fly straight with the wrong flock
goes together like orange soda and bomb pops.
A day’s end never train wrecked off a slow hault,
so while we’re at the pace of can’t-stop-won’t-stall,

I’m tryin’ to 3-step between the road blocks.
it’ll take more than track spikes and ankle-low socks,
it’ll take more than fuck-offs and so-whats,
more than you can afford off your mom and dad’s bucks.
It’s a long-shot, but we act like we’re shootin’ close-ups
posin’ with the rest and the most-ofs.
It’s a long walk outside’a this circle.
I’m’a start a fire, and it’s startin’ with the curtain.
-
Pre Chorus
Close as it gets, close as a kiss,
Any closer than this we might stick
Close as it gets, close as a kiss
Any closer than this we might stick

CHORUS
I’m runnin’ outta rage
Comin down from up.
If you can count your days,
your time has long been done.
If ain’t nobody gonna fix this,
then I will.
-
Hangin’ on like a broken light bulb in the ceiling
where no confidence can promise you’ll keep it.
The feelin’ won’t fly unless it has more reason
than the weekend and a full recovery from the previous.
Compulsively obsessed in a tailspin
facebook fanatic always checkin’ when the mail’s in.
Your happiness is influx with your inbox
tryin’ to get love when it’s not in stock.

Cousin please,
bet your etnies, disrespect runs directly
barfights connect without assembly
throwin’ more hooks than a fishin’ boat
floatin Jack Dempsey.
We know the math, but don’t wanna add it up:
either you’re in like Flynn, or outcast like Elphaba.
Simple measurements’a how we get down’ll
leave a hole in the floor and six feet in the ground.

credits

from Losing The Game, released May 8, 2008
Vocals & Lyrics by Toussaint Morrison
Percussion by Spencer Austin
Keys by Linden Killam
Guitar by Todd Bordewick
Bass by Alex "Ralph" Bennett

Recorded in Minneapolis, MN

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

The Blend Minneapolis, Minnesota

A nationally touring group of misfits making sound wherever beckoned, The Blend dominated the midwest pioneering hip-hop and rock in the same breath from dingy basement rock shows to capacity hip-hop shows. Now, their fate unknown having disbanded for several years, Linden Killam and Toussaint Morrison continue the group's legacy of unconventional, top tiered sound. ... more

contact / help

Contact The Blend

Streaming and
Download help

Report this track or account

The Blend recommends:

If you like The Blend, you may also like: